Monday morning arrived with a throbbing headache that hummed behind my eyes, a rhythmic reminder of the sleep I'd lost overthinking things I shouldn't. I moved through my early assignments like a ghost, consulting with my art professors and checking off tasks until the one hour I'd been dreading finally arrived: Psychology.
I walked into the lecture hall, offering a silent prayer for a peaceful, invisible seat. My usual spot was miraculously vacant. I moved to claim it, swinging my bag to occupy the chair next to me,a silent "keep out" to the rest of the world but someone was faster.
A hand reached out, stopping my bag mid-air. I didn't need to look up to know who it was.
I turned my head, meeting Liam's gaze with a look of pure annoyance. He didn't seem bothered; a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. He hadn't texted since the Snapchat steak, and he certainly hadn't reached out after the game. I told myself I wasn't bothered. Keep telling yourself that, my inner voice drawled sarcastically. I hated that voice.
The hall was filled with the usual pre-lecture chatter, but Liam leaned in, his voice cutting through the noise. "You attended my game."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. I tried to stay silent, to give him nothing, but the irritation bubbling in my chest won out. I turned to glare at him.
"I didn't attend your game," I snapped. "I was at the game. It didn't belong to you alone."
He didn't miss a beat, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Ah, so we're doing technicalities now? Good to know."
I was speechless. I knew I couldn't win a war of words with him, he twisted them too effortlessly. Everything about him was a provocation. I puffed my cheeks out in a silent huff and looked away, staring at the whiteboard until Professor Hugh finally entered.
"I have an important announcement," the professor began, his voice commanding the room. "As I mentioned last week, you will receive your final assignment today. This will span the rest of the semester and accounts for twenty percent of your grade."
He began reading off names, forming groups of four. I sat there, counting down, waiting for the names of my classmates to be paired up. My stomach did a slow, painful roll as the list dwindled. Finally, only two names remained.
Mine and his.
Professor Hugh looked over his glasses at us. "It seems we have one pair left. Miss Carver and Mr. Lincoln."
He had already stated that no one was allowed to change groups; he'd assigned us based on his own cryptic metrics of who 'needed' to work together. I felt the collective weight of every girl's jealous stare in the room, but I was too busy mourning my sanity. My day had officially gone from bad to a disaster.
I opened my mouth to protest, to beg for a solo project or a transfer, anything but Liam beat me to it.
"No biggie, Prof," he said, his voice casual and loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I'm sure we'll do great."
I shot him a glare that could have melted lead, but he didn't even flinch. Professor Hugh handed us our research topic, and with a curt nod, dismissed the class.
I stayed in my seat, paralyzed by the realization that I was now tethered to the most unpredictable man on campus for the next few months. Liam rose slowly, stretching with an agonizing lack of urgency. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable for once, and then, without saying a single word, he turned and walked out of the hall.
Left in the wake of his silence, I realized the "peaceful" Monday I'd prayed for was officially dead.